


Safe Rooms and Daggers

by cellwright



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bottom Sakamoto Ryuji, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, M/M, Masochism, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, alright i think thats enough tags, okay i think i will, wait do i need to tag this as underage because technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellwright/pseuds/cellwright
Summary: Akira always knew it was a little different when Joker was fucking Skull compared to when it was just him and Ryuji. At the end of the day, they were just two hormonal teenage boys, Phantom Thieves or not, but there was something a little… unhinged about them in the Metaverse.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 7
Kudos: 153





	Safe Rooms and Daggers

**Author's Note:**

> I HAD TO GET THIS OUT FOR RYUJI'S BDAY!!! happy ryuji day!!
> 
> i didnt wanna make it a tag but cw for mentions of blood!! its only in passing two or three time but just in case

Akira always knew it was a little different when Joker was fucking Skull compared to when it was just him and Ryuji. 

At the end of the day, they were just two hormonal teenage boys, Phantom Thieves or not, but there was something a little… unhinged about them in the Metaverse. 

The team knew there was a distinct contrast just to their normal behavior whenever they donned their identities as Phantom Thieves. They were a little less forgiving, more riled up and ready to fuck shit up, whatever it could be. Morgana said it could have had something to do with being powered up by their Personas, the rebellion of their hearts amplifying, blah blah blah. Akira understood. It made sense, really. 

They were impulsive too, acting on some sense of animalistic desire that could only be satiated by expelling their energy on every shadow they came across. Joker was not Akira, and Akira was not Joker, not really, but they met in a weird middle ground where technically, they were one. 

He really noticed its other implications the first time he and Ryuji were doing some exploring in Kamoshida’s castle on their own. Morgana was out exploring Yongen and the two were bored, so it wouldn’t have hurt to walk around and loot some treasure chests in the palace. They were in their costumes and Akira could already feel his normal rationale become overwhelmed with the need to get out the energy gathering in his limbs. It wouldn’t hurt to get some low-level shadows, maybe. 

They snuck around, not expecting to get as far as they did until they stumbled upon a safe room. Morgana would be a little mad they traveled far enough to another safe room without him, but it would make their infiltration easier later. They had a few shadows under their belts, a good amount of treasure that Akira would pawn off at Untouchable when they left, but he still felt high strung with energy. He didn’t know if they should risk infiltrating further without Morgana, but he’d get antsy back in the real world if they didn’t do anything else. 

Ryuji sat on the edge of the table, idly swinging his legs while he stretched his shoulder out. Usually he’d use his time in the safe room to take a breather, maybe drink some old LeBlanc coffee and recharge, but he was itching to get back into the Palace and kick some more shadow ass. 

Akira was the same, pacing around and observing the safe room shelves. He stopped after a while and settled himself in between Ryuji's knees, the front of his thighs digging into the table. 

He threw his arms around the blonde's neck and sighed. “How mad do you think Mona’s gonna be if we move on?” 

Ryuji looked up at Akira with a quirk in his eyebrow. “I dunno, Mona’s gonna come at me for whatever I do, so it’s your call,” he answered while placing his own hands on Akira’s waist. “Your call, _Joker_.”

Akira gazed down at Ryuji at the weird emphasis of the code name, the glint in his eyes fully belonging to Joker. “Mm, got a lot of energy, but it might be dangerous without him…” 

His intent was clear. Akira bent down to brush his lips over the underside of Ryuji’s jaw, pushing Skull’s collar and handkerchief out of the way. “This thing is stupid, you know,” he mumbled while untying the red silk and tossing it on the table. 

“Tried gettin’ rid of it once ‘nd it came up again,” Ryuji replied, already making work on undoing the chest plate on his front. “Whole costumes stupid, though.” 

“We should probably take off the masks, right?” Akira said after his bumped into Ryuji’s cheek, pulling away and placing his hands on either side of Ryuji’s hips. 

“You sure we should be doin’ this in here?” Ryuji feigned some sort of hesitance, but his own hands were already trailing down Akira’s chest. They hadn’t ever thought to get up to anything in the Metaverse, mostly considering the concept and their relationship was so new to them. Now, without Morgana around to berate them for messing around...

Akira knew the answer just from the once over Ryuji gave him. He pulled off his and Skulls masks, taking care to drop them somewhere behind them so as to not get in the way, and returned to Ryuji’s face to connect their lips. It was sloppy, but Akira was just getting used to the taste of Ryuji's tongue on his own and it was addicting. He couldn't breathe but he found he didn't care, not when Ryuji's fingers were threading their way through his hair and kept him in place, egging him on with every little tug. 

There it was, Skull and Joker. It didn’t take long for Akira to navigate through Skulls costume and have his top half (finally) bare, before Ryuji was already pulling off Joker’s long coat. 

“Coat’s stupid,” Ryuji breathlessly muttered against Akira’s lips for no reason, really, mostly just to see what type of reaction he’d get. He was a brat in a sense, but it worked when Akira smiled at him. 

“We’ll see how you feel when I tie you up with it, right?” Akira replied, only half joking but already thinking of a way to do it. With the sleeves? 

“Sure, Joker.”

There it was, the whole Joker thing. It shouldn’t have been weird, but it got Akira more in the mood than it should have. He dipped his head back into the space in between Ryuji’s neck and shoulder, grazing his teeth over the blonde's pulse before biting down to give him a hickey for the record books. He bit down a little harder than he ever had before, it was going to leave an indent for sure, but Ryuji’s back arched too quickly for him to worry about it. 

Akira tried again, taking care to ghost his lips over Ryuji’s chest and lowering his head enough to bite down another hickey, testing a limit only Joker could have had the guts to. As research warranted, Ryuji suppressed a moan behind ground teeth. 

“You’re a masochist, huh?” Akira smirked, still working his way down Ryuji’s stomach. He’d have to figure out how to get Ryuji’s knee pads off his pants, if they were even separate from them. Seriously, knee pads?

“Been wondering how to bring it up,” Ryuji murmured. He leaned back on his palms to give Akira more access to his torso, and it was hungrily received. 

“How far you willing to go?” Akira asked, not once relinquishing his attention of Ryuji’s body. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering the blonde's relatively toned chest, though if it was from fighting shadows before or their current endeavors, Akira didn’t know. 

He leaned back towards Ryuji’s face, kissing his jaw in favor of letting his hands roam over his chest. He grazed over a nipple and pinched it, a little too rough, but only garnered the same hitching response he got before. Ryuji was breathless before Akira could have even gotten to his dick, already straining through the material of his pants. 

“A-Anything, really,” Ryuji’s voice was tight, trying not to show just how much he was enjoying the intense treatment, but Akira always liked when he was loud. “I’ll try anythin’,”

It should have been expected that their venture in vigilante justice roughly translated into their personal lives, but Akira didn’t think he’d get so lucky. Sure, he had as many kinks one would expect from a closeted country boy, but as Joker they were all amplified tenfold. That, or Ryuji would never admit to anything like this if they were in the real world, and Akira wouldn’t have been bold enough to quit being gentle. 

“Took a bite to get you going, I wonder if I even need to touch you…” Akira referred to his hands, now gliding down everywhere on Ryuji’s hips and thighs, but pointedly avoiding his crotch. Ryuji tried to suppress the reaction he was so obviously wanting to give into, instead choosing to catch his breath and not give Joker the satisfaction. 

“Sh-shuddup— you’re the same!” Ryuji eyed Akira’s own straining arousal. Akira couldn’t ignore it, but he was too caught up in wondering how far he could push Ryuji’s limits to worry about it. 

Akira’s mind was in a frenzy wondering what he could do with all this new information presented to him. It would certainly make getting together in the real world more interesting if all of it translated the same, but maybe they’d have to reserve the kinkier stuff for the Metaverse. Who knew if they would even have anything to do in there after they took down Kamoshida’s Palace…

It took a while to find the opportunity after that. It was never truly the same in the real world, both a little too cautious and constantly asking for colors and talking through safe words, but soon they’d established themselves as the Phantom Thieves and became too busy in the Metaverse to think about it. In the real world, they lost all their edge, all the impulsiveness they needed to just go for it, no matter how much they talked it through it. 

Ann, Yusuke, Futaba, and so on, they joined the Phantom Thieves and were all together for the rest of their Palace infiltrations. Even Akechi had managed to become a part of the team, but his deal meant their disbandment at the conclusion of Sae’s Palace. 

And of course, there was the whole “plan” that would follow. 

So, Akira and Ryuji knew it was a matter of now or never. 

Akira couldn’t help but be a little reluctant, though. “You’ve seen how powerful some of these shadows are, ‘Yuji, d’you wanna risk it?” 

They were nearing the treasure at that point, the team could feel it. 

“Does Joker wanna risk it?”

Ryuji always knew the right thing to say, because in no time, Joker and Skull were in front of Sae’s Palace, alone. The flashing casino lights were glaring in their vision.

Akira grabbed Ryuji’s gloved hand with his own and they headed into the Palace, ignoring Justine’s odd glance from the Velvet Room door nearby. 

They went down one of their usual routes to the latest Safe Room they discovered, not bothering to ambush any shadows on the way; They’d need all the energy they could get. They were giggly the entire way up, hand in hand while they hid behind corner after corner. They were teenagers, and whether or not they were in the Metaverse didn’t change the thrill of sneaking around authority, hoping not to get caught just for some time alone. 

Ryuji grew more antsy the closer they got. They kept on stopping in hallways, stealing heated kisses in anticipation before one of them would force the other to pull away and get moving for a few more feet. Ryuji already had his gloves shoved into his pockets and was gradually undoing his chest plate. Akira was mostly the same, his own gloves still on but his coat thrown over an arm. He had a couple of things in there he knew he would need later, and he was lucky enough to have had the hindsight to keep Joker's coat equipped with whatever their hijinks might have called for after the first time. 

It seemed like it was going to take forever with how often they got distracted, but Akira finally fumbled with the handles of the Safe Room door and swung the doors open. 

It took half a second to get inside, and it was even faster for Akira to have Ryuji pinned up against the door at its closing, feverishly smashing their lips together. He wasted no time prying Ryuji's lips open with his own, overcome with the primal urge to lay his claim. Their teeth clacked together in their hurry, he could drown in how Ryuji tasted, it spun his lungs into webs. His tongue explored every inch of Ryuji's mouth, mapping it out even if he had it memorized, outlining his teeth. Ryuji mewled under him, shifting to grind against Akira's thigh. 

A hand was on Ryuji’s throat, light on the pressure, while the other was removing their masks and tossing them on the floor behind them. Akira's coat was long forgotten on the ground the second they got into the room, but now his focus was on how desperately Ryuji was biting at his bottom lip. Feisty. 

Akira squeezed the sides of Ryuji’s neck with a little more intent, just enough for Ryuji to part his lips open and pant for air, have him a little lightheaded. 

“You really like that, huh?” Akira used his free hand to remove Ryuji’s chest plate while his lips trailed to the side of his face. He traced his tongue along the shell of his ear and dug his teeth into the lobe just to hear Ryuji whine.

“Always, ah-- Always have, ‘Kira,” Ryuji breathed. He let his hands fall lamely to his sides as his armor clattered onto the ground, reveling in, _god_ , Akira’s hands, his mouth, his thigh, which was now firmly wedged between Ryuji’s legs and it was _divine_. 

Akira’s hand tightened its grip on his neck, sending Ryuji’s eyes rolling back and he didn't think he had ever known such a heaven. “Codenames, Skull.”

“You’ve never cared--!” But he was cut off by his own choked sigh when Akira removed his hand from his throat, and instead dipped his head so that their lips would meet again. The heat of Ryuji's mouth was addicting, Akira found. 

Ryuji ran his hands down the sides of Akira's bare biceps. Geez, he hated Joker’s stupid coat. With it off, Akira was left with his signature red gloves, a button up whose sleeves ended right at the shoulder, and a lust-filled glint in his eyes that left Ryuji’s mouth watering. He wouldn’t have been able to deny the spit gathering at the corner of his mouth if he reached up to wipe at it. 

Akira was the one to do it when he pulled away. He swiped at Ryuji’s lips, the leather of his glove grazing over them catching on how chapped they were, a smirk tugging at his own. “Tch, so sloppy. Getting excited, are we?” Akira’s voice contained no malice, but it was low and rumbled through the heat pooling in Ryuji's stomach and he found himself growing bright red anyways. 

“I-I’ve uh,” the blonde mumbled, turning his head to the floor, “It’s been a while since we could do this in here.” 

Akira didn’t know if he was allowed to have found the scene so cute, with Ryuji putty in his hands, flushed red, grappling at the wall behind him. His lips were swollen pink and glistening with spit; his eyes were already half-lidded and glazed over, gaze on the ground while he caught his breath.

Akira got an idea and reached for the dagger he kept holstered to the side of his hip. It was heavy in his hand when he unsheathed it and nestled it under Ryuji’s chin, gentle enough to nudge it upwards and bring his head up so that their eyes would meet. It was Akira’s oldest, far too dull to do any damage, but it could serve its purpose since the tip was still pointed and dangerous enough. _Enough_.

Ryuji’s eyes widened at the feeling of it digging into his skin, but it was followed by a shiver. 

“This alright?” Akira was light with his hand, examining Ryuji’s face for any sign that he wasn’t enjoying it. They’d brought out the occasional knife in the real world before, but it was always met with a moment of hesitation that Akira never liked. 

“Hell yeah,” Ryuji said without skipping a beat. He looked at Akira with eyes darkened in lust. He couldn’t help himself, the combination of the dagger under his chin, the increasing pressure Akira was putting on his crotch with his hip. He was roaring and ready to go. 

When they caught a night in LeBlanc without Morgana around, Ryuji would have normally called a yellow at this point, or Akira would have been overly cautious about it. 

In the Metaverse though…

Full send.

Ryuji bucked his hips upwards, desperate for more friction against his aching cock, but he had no such luck when Akira took a step away. 

“Ah, ah,” Akira’s tone was teasing. 

He dragged the dagger down Ryuji’s chest, letting it catch onto the collar of his shirt and stretching it down to reveal his collarbones. 

Ryuji keened in the form of a half whimper. “ _Ah_ \-- Please, Joker, I…”

It was rare to see him so worked up and raring to go. It didn’t help that the tip of the dagger was now lightly tracing around his nipples through his shirt, that every one of Akira's sighs ghosted over his neck lightly enough to have Ryuji shaking. 

“Please what?” Akira teased, using the flat of the dagger to trawl down Ryuji’s sides. Any sudden movement, any interruption, and Akira could have nicked Ryuji's ribs if he pushed down hard enough. Ryuji reveled in it, how the blade was edging into his skin and how he could have been left with a bloody side if he moved. 

Ryuji squirmed and grabbed Akira’s face to smash their lips together once more. He was getting more desperate as more time passed with Akira’s hands pointedly avoiding his arousal, and he didn't care that he was losing all of his pride in the process. It was always a game with the two, for Akira to see how long it takes to push Ryuji to the edge, and for Ryuji to see how long he could hold out before breaking. In Akira’s hands, he was putty, he'd do anything he asked. Just Akira’s little plaything, bending at his will. 

Akira jerked away from him and brought his other hand to Ryuji’s hair, roughly fisting the top of it to pull him up to eye level. 

“I don’t recall you asking permission to move, Skull,” Akira said huskily, his grip tightening. Ryuji screwed his eyes shut at the sensation, the pain overwhelming, but it was more arousing than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t even want to think about the pathetic half-moans escaping his lips, or that it was probably the reason why Akira was smirking at him. 

“Stay put,” he said, letting go of his grip on Ryuji’s hair. 

Ryuji didn’t know if he wanted it back there or not, but Akira turned around to search through the clothes he had already thrown onto the ground, digging through the bunched up fabric in search of something. Ryuji's mind was too hazy to pay attention, and he absentmindedly palmed his dick through his pants, sighing at the relief. 

Until Akira had another hand grabbing him by the hair, shoving him against the wall. Stars exploded in his vision, he gripped the surface behind him for some leverage. 

“What did I say?” Akira growled. Ryuji’s heart skipped a beat. He wriggled around, relishing in the fresh wave of pain from the top of his head. 

Ryuji tried for some friction against his front again, but was only rewarded with a stronger grasp. Akira balanced the blade of the dagger between his teeth to grab Ryuji's wrists and suspend his arms over his head. In between his fingers was Skull's red handkerchief, which he pulled out to secure a tight knot around the blonde's crossed wrists.

“Are you gonna be a good boy now?” he muttered after removing the dagger from his mouth. The blade was too dull to cut through the material of Ryuji's shirt, but Akira unbuttoned the few clasps at the top and used the rest of Joker’s strength to rip it all the way down. It would fix itself the next time they entered the Metaverse, probably. 

Ryuji’s breathing was heavy, and he obediently kept his arms up. He couldn’t stop the little sounds leaving his throat no matter how hard he tried to suppress them, desperation clouding his inhibitions. He liked the pressure at his wrists while the rest of his arm grew numb, but it was far from enough to satiate him. 

“C-C’mon, _please_ ,” he pathetically mewled. God, he needed it so badly, he thought it was going to explode. He wondered if he could come just from the tip of the dagger tracing around his body and Akira’s leg wedged between his thighs. It could have been enough to lean him closer to the edge but he was waning for it _now_. 

Akira’s teeth were grazing at the side of his neck. “Please what?” His breath sent shivers up Ryuji’s spine. 

He turned his head to let more of Akira’s tongue glide against his jaw. “G-Goddamn tease.”

Akira leaned back, placing his hands on either side of Ryuji’s head. He chased Akira's touch and tried to lean in, but was shoved back onto the wall.

“That’s not nice,” Akira drawled, but he had the advantage. Ryuji was close to completely undone and Akira hadn’t even gotten his pants off. His breathes were ragged and the red from his face reached his chest, all the way to his taut nipples and shaking shoulders. Akira wished he could have taken a picture. 

Ryuji sighed and averted his eyes to the ground, muttering something under his breath. Even in the silence of the safe room, Akira didn't catch it. “What was that, Skull?” 

“ _You know what I_ \-- _Gah_ , c-c’mon, Joker, _babe_ ,” Ryuji whimpered. He grew even more red, somehow, even when Akira’s hands weren’t on him. All it took was Akira's piercing gaze raking down his face, incredibly embarrassed even as Skull and he was _incredibly_ , _unfairly_ turned on. 

“Beg.” Akira's voice was casual, his expression was rigid. Smug, even. 

Maybe that’s all Ryuji needed. They were in the Metaverse, they’ve already done plenty that wouldn’t warrant any further dancing around each other, and any sense of pride he had left was gone. Dignity deteriorated, it was all rubble. All he could think about how hard he felt in his pants and how the rest of his bottom half ached and _jesus christ_ \-- if Akira kept on looking at him like that he’d fall to his knees if it came to it. 

“G-- _Please_ , Joker, I-I’m dyin’ here, _fuck me_ , use me, _I don’t care_ \--! I’ll do anythin’, just please, _touch me_ \--” It was all Akira needed. Ryuji's strangled voice was cut off by a pull of his hair, Akira grabbing the back and dragging him over to the table in the middle of the room. He felt like a puppet, the way Akira whirled him around and had him bent over the cold wood faster than he could process it. Akira tugged Ryuji’s pants down to gather around his thighs, and he was thankful for the cool rush of air that swept over his bobbing cock. 

Ryuji’s hands were still bound helplessly in front of him, his elbows dug into the table, but he didn’t try to move even when Akira’s presence disappeared from behind him to rustle through his coat again. His dagger clattered onto the table. 

Akira was back behind him, but Ryuji was powerless to see what he was up to. A gloved hand ran down his back-- another shiver. It was so much different compared to Akira’s usual bare finger tips, always gentle, but the leather? It was Joker for sure, running a little too hard over his body, hands and lips gracing his shoulder blades. He mouthed at Ryuji's spine and harshly bit into the birthmark he knew he had on his waist, before lowering, lowering, lowering. 

Ryuji heard the familiar sound of a cap popping open-- _lube_ , he recognized. How perceptive Joker was to keep it in his coat, Ryuji didn’t know, but what he didn’t expect two slicked up leathered fingers already prodding at his hole. He was gonna keep his gloves on, _jesus christ._

Ryuji didn’t have time to think about it; the two fingers plunged in and he cried out. It burned _so_ fucking badly past the initial ring of muscle, Akira usually prepped him with a single digit to start off and worked at it slowly. Ryuji bucked forward at it— the sting made it all the better, and Joker wasn’t holding back. 

Ryuji gasped and jerked forward when Akira began scissoring his fingers open, wasting no time in stretching him out. The texture of his gloves glazed Ryuji’s mind over and all he could focus on was how close Akira was to brushing over his prostate. 

Instead, Akira added in another digit, intensifying the burn further. His fingers were long, already accustomed to Ryuji and he turned his wrist to reach at a new angle. It was practiced, if not considerably less gentle than he had ever been. He had one goal in mind. 

Moans spilled out of Ryuji like a fountain— Akira was merciless with his fingers, he always had been. It still burned, but Akira finally found the little bundle of nerves and Ryuji saw stars. He made a mess of the table with the precum profusely leaking from his cock, but he couldn’t bring himself to even worry about it. Nowhere close, not when Akira was deliberately prodding at his prostate without giving Ryuji any time to breathe, and Ryuji’s hips helplessly jerked around at the ceaseless contact. This was where he died, Ryuji thought, and he would have been completely fine with the fact. 

He could have come just from the intentional massaging Akira was doing, unsparing and smug, he was pretty sure he had before, he couldn't remember now. However, Joker reached a hand from behind and roughly gripped the base of Ryuji’s aching cock, hard enough to elicit a cry that tore through Ryuji’s chest. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, he was suddenly overwhelmed, but he’d kill Joker if he stopped. 

Akira thumbed the slit of Ryuji’s head, using the precum gathered there to drag it down his shaft. How he was able to simultaneously massage Ryuji’s prostate while jacking him off at the same time, he wasn’t going to question, he was too gone to care. 

It didn’t take long, but Ryuji brokenly choked out that he was close, but it only prompted Akira to speed up his hands. 

“G-Gah-- _Akira_ \--!” 

And Ryuji was gone, white hot streaks shooting out to coat his stomach and the table under him, and god, they’d definitely have some cleaning up to do. His orgasm punched through him in waves, but Akira's fingers didn't leave him until the last bit of cum dribbled out of his dick, and he was _spent_. He waited so long to get back into the Metaverse and get up to exactly this with Joker, and he was probably satiated for the next month. Ryuji dropped his head onto the table with a sigh, coming down from the clarity, shifting his wrists around in his restraints. He’d have bruises there when they left, the medicine they had on hand doing nothing for those.

Joker wasn’t done with Ryuji yet, though. 

He flipped him around as soon as Ryuji slumped in on himself, shifting them over to the portion of the table that was still clean and leaning over to grab the dagger he had previously dropped.

Ryuji was overly sensitive just about everywhere, his legs shaking a little harder when Akira brought the tip of the knife back to trace over his abs. He was lucky he was lying with his back flat on the table, or he would have collapsed. 

“Don’t tell me we’re tired already?” Joker whispered, enjoying watching Ryuji squirm under the dagger. He liked it a little too much, his previous arousal already twitching with a semblance of life, but Akira was nowhere near done with him. Not when his own clothes were very much on, and listening to Ryuji’s moans was probably enough to get him off on its own. 

“Do I look like a quitter?” Ryuji breathed, but his mind was already off into space at the sensation flowing through him. Skull definitely had some more stamina than his usual self. 

Without warning, Akira guided the tip of his cock to Ryuji’s half-prepared, already abused hole and slammed his hips forward. 

Ryuji threw his head back with a cry, half from surprise and half from the overstimulation. It stung like hell-- more tears rolled down his face and it felt like he was being torn in half, but he jerked his hips back to meet Akira’s own the best he could. His eyes flew open when he felt a pressure at his throat-- Akira had picked up the dagger again and held the blade up to his neck, right under his adams apple, not enough to leave a mark but plenty to revitalize the fire roaring in Ryuji’s stomach. There it was, _Skull_ , hunting out danger until it had him pinned and helpless. 

Akira’s pace didn’t stutter, not for a second. He watched Ryuji’s contorted face with a sense of pride, aware every piston of his hips was enough to draw out the same ragged moan and cry from Ryuji’s lips, every tear escaping the corner of his eyes, the red in his face that traveled down to his shoulders. 

Akira held onto Ryuji’s hipbone with strength that would definitely leave a bruise, but Ryuji always liked it that way. He liked being marked up by Akira, the embarrassment of having to cover up his hickies, how he felt in the mirror trying to count them all up when they raked down his body in such multiplicity he’d lose count of them. 

Besides, Ryuji’s hips were the last of his concern. He wouldn’t be able to walk without a limp for at least a few days at the rate that Akira was ramming into him, drawing almost all the way out only to slam back in without a spare breath. Akira must have been enjoying it too, angling his body to grind into Ryuji’s tired prostate and-- _bingo_ . Ryuji’s back arched off the table, digging his shoulders onto the hard surface, but he couldn’t feel it because all he could think was-- _holy shit._ No, he couldn’t think. He didn’t have any grasp of coherency, the babble spilling from his lips a myriad of curses his mother would blush at and begging, begging for-- _God, Akira, right there--!_

Ryuji shouldn’t have already been nearing his second orgasm considering how quickly he came to his previous one, but his cock was unbearably hard and leaked heavily onto his stomach. The dagger was still menacingly at his throat, he felt his arms going numb and his throat felt shredded, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

Akira was getting close, too. It must have been a little more difficult for him to hold back considering it was only Ryuji who had come once already, but he was closer to the edge than he thought. Ryuji was so damn tight and he kept on squirming under him, driven by the blade at his neck, pushing back onto Akira’s cock every time he pulled back and it was driving Akira insane. 

“‘Kira-- _I_ \-- _About to_ \--!”

That was quick, Akira mused, and without a second thought he drew back the dagger. Ryuji looked almost disappointed at the contact disappearing, but Akira brought the tip to glide up the vein that ran up the underside of Ryuji’s cock and-- _!_

He was a goner for the second time. He saw flashing, flashing white, his back couldn’t have possibly arched off the table more without resembling a C, his breathing was irregular and finally-- a sigh. Ryuji was making more of a mess of himself than he already was, tears rolling to a gradual stop, and was that-- was that cum in his hair? 

Akira wasn’t too far behind Ryuji, a couple more thrusts and he came with a cry-- white hot inside of Ryuji, but he knew he wouldn’t mind, he never did. He rode it out, his orgasm flowed through him in waves and his vision was spotty.

It was difficult to keep upright, not when his legs felt like jelly, but he happened to not want to fall onto the now-drying cum draped over Ryuji’s chest. Instead, he dropped the dagger onto the table with a loud clatter, pulled out as a sudden afterthought, caught his breath for a second. 

Joker was spent. Boneless, and trying to force a breath in his lungs now that he had a moment to think about air.

Maybe it was the anticipation that built up since the first time he and Ryuji were able to use the safe room of Kamoshida’s Palace for their own devices, it always kept Akira on his toes. Anxious, waiting to see if any Palace thereafter would grant them the same privacy, unabashedness, everything they couldn’t replicate in the real world. It was no wonder he bothered to go all out, or that it had left him _unbelievably_ tired. Ryuji was a champ for managing to come twice with how enthusiastic he had been. 

Akira reached over Ryuji to undo the handkerchief’s knot around his wrists, whose arms were still limp and above his head. Ryuji’s eyes were closed but he sighed at the relief, not making to move if he didn’t have to. Akira would have to grant him the luxury, he knew, as Akira’s resolve clouded Jokers, which was rare for the Metaverse. Usually it was the other way around-- Joker’s personality slipping into confrontations, the glint in his eyes pushing Akira to be a little more bold in the real world. 

He used the wrinkled up red fabric to wipe down Ryuji’s front, cringing a little at how much there was. He had really put Ryuji to work, hadn't he? Regardless, he took the chance to examine the rest of Ryuji, who was perfectly content with the gentle attention and had his eyes flutter as his breath slowed. 

Akira had done a number on the blonde. Ryuji’s body was it’s own canvas for the myriad of claims Akira had left on him. Hickies dotting his neck and chest, a pain to hide later, along with the notable bruises on his hips and-- Akira could’ve gasped-- an indent under his chin and on his throat from where he held his dagger, did it really leave a mark? And, shit, he was really able to use a knife! It wasn’t surprising as Joker, but Akira did another check of Ryuji’s torso to make sure he hadn’t drawn blood. They didn’t talk about that (yet). 

He was in the clear. With a final sigh, Akira held himself up with whatever power he had in one arm and brought his free hand up to run through Ryuji’s hair. ...Did he fall asleep? 

No, one of Ryuji’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” he murmured, casual, as if Akira’s cum wasn’t leaking out of his--

“Hi,” Akira responded, looking at him a little too lovingly at a guy who had jizz in his hair. They were certainly a pair to be reckoned with. 

Ryuji strained his head away from Akira’s touch and breathily laughed. “Weren’t one of those gloves inside’a me? Gross, dude.” 

Akira cringed at the realization-- yeah, gross. He peeled off the gloves and threw them on the ground. The rest of him felt as sweaty as his hands-- he hadn’t taken off his shirt, his pants were bunched up around the middle of his thighs in his rush to get his dick into Ryuji (not that he was complaining, though). Ryuji’s own pants were still gathered at his ankles, having never found a time to fully kick them off. 

Akira leaned down to place a little peck on Ryuji’s cheek, oddly gentle for someone who had just been ramming into his boyfriend minutes earlier. It was silly, it didn’t matter, not really. They had reverted back to Akira and Ryuji, regardless of the fact that they were in the Metaverse and most definitely had woken up some off duty shadows lurking around the area. 

“Y’know,” Ryuji yawned, stretching his arms out above him. Akira shared the sentiment. “If I sleep for like, an hour, I could probably go for round two.” 

There was no better idea in Akira’s head, and even in his haze of clarity he knew he needed to get Ryuji to sleep like, right the fuck then. They had a few more hours to take advantage of the safe room, after all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> all i learned writing this is i LOVE using commas  
> i don't really like this at all but it's been sitting in my drafts for three weeks and i wanted to get something out for ryuji day anyway  
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kriswritesthing)!


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